The Discovery Channel
by KungPowKitty
Summary: Ever wonder how, say, Helen's powers were discovered? Or what about Dash's? How about JackJack? All here on the Discovery Channel! Ha haa! I'm updating!
1. The JackJack Discovery

**Yello, folksies! KungPowKitty here to serve you with some low-class hilarity here! Hopefully. First one shot. Who knows what'll happen. Okay, basically, this lil story is about how our favorite Incredible family discovers little Jack-Jack's less-than-normalness. Won't that be fun. Let's get started.**

Agent Rick Dicker slowly lowered himself into the driver's seat of his car, grunting as he came down. He watched patiently as the slightly delirious Kari was picked up by her mother. _Another memory successfully erased. Only you Bob_, he thought as he started the car. _Now all I have to do is go and get Jack-Jack registered with the Parrs. Why didn't they just get that done right after he was born? It's not like I need the extra work!_

Of course, the Parr family had no idea Jack-Jack was a super. Yet. That was all about to change. And it wasn't going to be pretty. Not at all. At the same time that Kari was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to get her ponytail out of her mother's car window, Robert Parr was job hunting, and Helen Parr was giving Violet strict instructions as to what she was to do with her two brothers while she went to an open house. At that point in time, they were still living in a hotel after a certain misadventure that resulted in their former home being blown to bits. But that's a different story and I'm rambling.

"I want you to get some homework done, be sure that no one explodes the hotel microwave today, no TV, Dash is not allowed to have any more snacks, and _please _avoid the pool. And the lobby. And the halls… Just stay in the room. I'll be back with take-out tonight. Any requests?"

Dash plowed through his sister to yell at the very top of his lungs, "Chinese! Chinese! Chinese! Chinese!"

"Dash, honey, Vi's allergic to Chinese food," Helen said, rubbing her forehead.

"Come here, you!" Violet said, and threw Dash across the room.

"Try to be patient with him, Vi," Helen said to her daughter. "I'll be back later. And Dash, I can still see you, so don't even try it!" Helen exclaimed.

"Aw, nuts," Dash pouted, putting his new slingshot back in the drawer. With that, Helen was off, leaving Violet and Dashiell Parr alone to defend the homestead.

The first hour Helen was out was reasonably uneventful. There was one little mishap concerning the microwave and a bar of soap, but other than the resulting stink, everything was fine. On the other hand, Robert Parr was in the middle of a job interview, trying to explain why it was he quit his old job the same day his employer was brought into the hospital and placed into a full body cast. Lots of fun. But back to Dash and Vi.

"Dash, do me a favor and change Jack-Jack's diaper!" Violet shouted across the room.

"Why should I?" Dash yelled back. Violet was being pretty good to him considering he was bouncing on the beds with two Twinkies jammed in his mouth while playing a rented video game.

"Because I said so," Violet retorted.

"He doesn't even stink! He doesn't need his diaper changed!"

"Says the guy who stuffs cream filling up his nose! And would you turn down the volume on that thing, you're gonna get us in trouble!"

"Am not!" Dash snapped, performing an impressive flip between the beds, his head coming dangerously close to the ceiling fan. Knock knock.

"You were saying?" Violet scoffed as she got up to answer the door. Not that she didn't want to put as much distance between herself and her math homework…

Vi opened the door saying dully, "Parr's current residence. Unless you've got a good reason to be…" No one was at the door. She looked up and down the hall.

"Who is it, Vi?"

Violet looked back at Dash when he asked the question, feeling very confused.

"Ga ga."

"Say again, Vi?" Dash asked, befogged (great word) by the peculiar sound coming from Violet's general direction. Violet looked around, back at the hallway she just checked, and there sitting at her feet was Jack-Jack.

"How'd you get there?" the teenager asked the baby, picking him up and looking at him like he was a moon rock or something.

"I've been here the whole time!"

"Not you, Dash; him!"

"Jack-Jack?" Dash put down his video game to walk over to Vi and Jack-Jack. "You're the one who knocked on the door?" he asked his brother between bites of another Twinkie.

"Gaa ga moo maany!"

"Right. Well, that was weird."

"I'll say. Now go turn down the TV before you really get us into trouble."

Dash muttered, "Like your little soap experiment's gonna go unnoticed," before he went to obey orders. Meanwhile, Violet went back to her math homework, very reluctantly of course, but she couldn't help but look at Jack-Jack from time to time. Dash, too, would peak out the corner of his eye at his little brother. And who could blame them? After all, Jack-Jack was very suspicious playing with his rattle. Nothing's more suspicious than a baby that plays with a rattle. (Can you tell I'm being sarcastic?)

Alas, it was Dash who was destined to discover the truth behind the innocence. According to legend, Violet had gone to sharpen her pencil in the lobby downstairs when it happened, leaving Dashiell Parr alone with his little brother.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Dash shouted at the television set, as if yelling would boost Starfox's chances of saving the galaxy. Not only was he yelling, but because this was the final level, he had thrown in some bouncing for effective cheering. Boys will be boys.

"C'mon, flame him!" Dash shouted as loudly as he could. Obediently, Starfox flambéed the enemy just in time. This victory resulted in more screaming and bouncing, of a different sort, but equally disturbing to the state Senator in the room beneath him. But little did Dash realize that Starfox wasn't the only one who'd obeyed his command to light something on fire. That's right, Jack-Jack had become a walking fireball.

It was when Dash started dancing around in circles that he became fully aware of his brother's dilemma. Needless to say, he froze in shock and terror when he saw his little brother had become a miniature inferno. And then,…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oh no, what's he doing up there?" Violet asked herself aloud, finished with her pencil sharpening.

Meanwhile…

"Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no!" Dash screamed in a state of panic, running at top speed in tiny little circles. "Oh my gosh, what did I do!"

"Goo ga!"

"AAHHH!" Dash tripped and fell, startled by his brother's utter lack of concern. As you would expect, since this fan fiction has to do with Jack-Jack, Dash could only land in the worst possible spot : right in front of Mister Fireball, just close enough for his hair to catch fire.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT!" the blonde-haired boy screamed, running full blast around the room, hands desperately trying to smother the fire. Jack-Jack found the whole spectacle very hilarious, and de-flame-erized himself without Dash noticing.

"That's it!" Violet screamed, practically kicking down the door. "Do you have any idea how many people can hear-"

"VI VI VI VI VI VI VI HELP! IT'S HOT IT'S HOT, IT'S HOT HOT HOT HOT!"

"What the heck did you do!"

"JACK JACK! JACK JACK! OWWW! VI HELP!"

Vi slammed the door shut behind her, very aware of the strange looks the two of them had to be getting from people passing in the halls.

You'd think two kids who'd faced down a deadly Omnidroid would be able to keep their cool in this kind of situation. But perhaps it was Dash's shock at fireball Jack-Jack, the pain of having his hair on fire, Vi's innate fear of hair-catching-fire (long hair, duh), and their unfamiliarity with the hotel room that made them do what they did next.

Instead of calmly placing Dash's head under the sink faucet, or even into the ice machine in the freezer, Vi reached for the coffee maker while Dash went for Vi's half-drunken Pepsi. Yeah, they'd saved Dash's head from being burned off, but now they had a sticky, grimy, smelly mess all over the floor. And Violet's homework. And Dash's brand-spanking-new video game system. Plus, Dash was definitely short some hair, and what hair he did have had been thoroughly charcoaled.

"We are so screwed."

"My hair! Look at my hair!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't play with matches, or the microwave, or whatever it was!"

"It wasn't me! It was Jack-Jack!"

"Jack-Jack."

"Yeah! I just turned around and VOOSH! He was like one of Dad's barbeques! And then I fell over and my hair-!"

Violet was looking from Dash to Jack-Jack very skeptically. "Dash…"

"It's the truth!"

"Dash, look,…" But Dash wasn't listening. He was looking behind his sister, watching petrified as Jack-Jack floated up to the ceiling, where he sat giggling.

"Viiiiii," he said, gaping at his brother. She paused in her speech and looked at Dash. And when she looked where he was pointing…

"Oh (bleep!)!"

"What did you say!"

"You didn't hear that! What the heck is going on!"

"He's a super!"

Violet jumped for her pillow, which she promptly stuffed down Dash's throat. "I can see that, you cockroach, now don't tell the rest of the hotel, okay!"

"Ohrororhoa!"

"What?"

"Raya, ohrororhoa!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever."

Out came the pillow. "That hurt!"

"That was the point. What're we gonna do!"

First they tried to reach out for Jack-Jack to pull him down. Next was the human pyramid method (which, I might add, resulted in a broken lamp and Violet's neck bending in a way she never knew was physically possible). Then Vi tried bouncing off the bed, which almost worked. However, she ended up grabbing Jack-Jack's head, meaning she's hanging about five feet up in the air by the head of a baby who is in extreme discomfort, and of course Dash isn't helping- he's still mourning his hair. That was the attempt where the siblings discovered Jack-Jack's demon-thingy mode. After that, they tried bribing Jack-Jack with Twinkies. You would be amazed at how many times Jack-Jack was able to outwit them, until he had about forty Twinkies, and the TV had been smashed to pieces.

Dash and Violet lay on the floor panting, downing a quick lunch while Jack-Jack slept.

"What are we gonna do?" Violet asked no one.

"He burnt off my hair."

"Would you shut up? At least he didn't burn off your face!"

"Easy for you to say."

"Any new ideas?"

"We could call animal control."

"I don't think their services include exploding babies. Eh?"

Jack-Jack had just transported himself through the ceiling.

"Any chance those services include disappearing babies?"

"Shut up! If we stay exactly like this, we might wake up and it never happened!" Violet shouted.

"Vi, c'mon, be a big girl."

"I don't wanna! I wanna call Mom and get her to take care of this!"

Not an option, really. Helen Parr was a little busy at the open house. The front door had slammed on one of her arms when she'd first arrived, and she was only just realizing this. But back to the whole Jack-Jack problem.

Vi and Dash were running through the halls of the hotel, following the sounds of people screaming and lamps breaking. Then, they heard two screams coming from opposite ends of the hallway above them. The siblings looked at each other in horror. Had their little brother _duplicated_ himself!

"You go that way, I go this way!" Vi shouted to Dash in a state of panic. Dash immediately ran for the stairs on his side of the hallway. Vi turned to go to the stairs at her end of the hall, and she-

WHAM!

"Oops. Hey, are you okay?"

The state Senator had opened a door right in Violet's face, and she now lay on the floor, pretty much knocked out.

Dash, meanwhile, was listening carefully for more screams. James Bond style.

"Ba du, d-daaaaaaa d-daa daaaaaaaaaaa, baa di-di-daaaaaa d-da daaaa!" he sung to himself, his finger-gun armed and ready as he snuck through the hallway. "Wonder what's taking Vi."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"I'm coming, Jack-Jack!" Dash yelled and ran into the room from which the scream had come from. Well, more like, ran into the door, thus pancake-ing himself. "Ow…"

"AAAAAA, AAAAAAA, Oh get away!" a girl screamed from inside.

"I'm coming!" Dash yelled. He started pounding on the door with all his might. "Geez, how does Dad _do_ this! Oops." He had broken the door knob off.

"AAAAAAAAAAA! Hey, w-what're you doing? Somebody help!"

"Gimme a sec!" Dash cried. He started to pound on the door, shoving his entire body into it. Since that didn't amount to much of anything, Dash took to running across the hall from the door and ramming back into it, several times. On the twenty-eighth attempt, he shouted, "Just open already!" And just like that it opened- and Dash went running into the person who'd opened it from the other side.

"What the-?"

"Sorry, I heard you scream, and-" It was a guy, and he was alone. A girl had screamed. Dash looked at the man, confused, when another scream echoed through the room. The ten-year-old looked up, to see a horror flick playing on the TV.

_You gotta be kidding me_.

Another scream, which sounded much less television-ed, came from down the hall.

"Gottagosorryforthemessbye!" Dash yelled at the guy, running out of the room and leaving its occupant to clean up the butchered door.

Upon arriving at the new room, Dash found the door already open (much to his pleasure), and ran inside. "Did you see a flying baby come-"

"IT WENT DOWN!" the woman shrieked.

"Uh…yeah, okay…thanks." Dash was getting tired of this. He ran down the stairs on the opposite end of the hall than the ones he'd climbed, and encountered Violet at the bottom.

"Violet? You feelin' okay?"

She looked drunk. "Hehehehe…YEP! _This_ girl is a-feelin' toooootally coooooooooooool."

"Wake up," Dash said, flicking her in the forehead with his thumb and forefinger. To his horror, this flicking action turned Violet invisible, making her a bunch of floating clothes. "Oh no! Uh, here!" He flicked her again, and this time a force field surrounded her, shoving Dash back. "Oh no, what do I do! Uh, hey Vi, there goes Brad Pitts!" Nothing. "Rats. Um…Will Smithy? Orlando Broom? Harry Potter?" Still nothing. "Tony Rydinger?"

"AAAHH, hide me!" Violet shouted, her force field disappearing and her body becoming fully visible as she hid behind her brother. Dash looked at her, smirking. "Ahem yes, well…"

"The lady said Jack-Jack went down."

"That's not good!"

"Why?"

"The lobby and the pool area are below this floor. Okay, look, I want you to run up to the room and call Mom while I go check the lobby, 'kay?"

"On it," Dash said, running back up the stairs while Violet went down.

Everything seemed fine in the lobby, so she walked into the pool area. And there was Jack-Jack, sitting on a lawn chair, giggling at her. "Oh, thank goodness," Violet sighed, walking towards her baby brother, glad the nightmare was over. Or was it?

Jack-Jack started to float up to the ceiling. Violet froze, her eyes widened, watching him ascent. After a brief temper tantrum, she ran towards the baby screaming, "YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY AGAIN!" She leapt out towards him, and grabbed him. But it seems a floating baby is impervious to weight. So now, Jack-Jack was floating up with Violet hanging off of him while the entire pool full of people watched in shock. And then the baby began to speed up.

"Whoa, whoa, STOP! Waaaaaa!" Violet cried out as Jack-Jack and she were transported through the ceiling into the room above them. And the next one. And the one after that. Always increasing in speed.

"AAAA- bzzzt -AAAAA- bzzt -AAA- bzzt -A- bzzt -A- bzzt -St- bzzt -op!"

And they did. Dash stared at his sister, floating off of Jack-Jack, right in front of him. He hung up the phone before he'd even dialed.

Finally, Violet let go, landing heavily on the floor. "Okay, that hurt." Ker-plunk, she fell.

"Ga ga, ga ga!" Jack-Jack giggled as he floated towards the window.

"No, Jack-Jack, don't!" Dash cried, jumping through the window shortly after Jack-Jack teleported through it. The ten-year-old grabbed hold of him and found himself hanging off of the baby much like Violet had.

Jack-Jack turned into lead.

Dash looked at Violet, who was standing back up now. "No fair." Zooooooooom, down they went. "THIS WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO DISCOVER I CAN FLY!" Dash shouted to no one in particular. Meanwhile, Violet was running as fast as Dash could down the stairs to the ground level, where she broke through the glass door instead of opening it.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- hunh!" Dash opened his eyes. A force field had surrounded Jack-Jack and himself. Suddenly, it lurched downward before stopping in mid-air again. Apparently Violet was having some trouble with the very heavy Jack-Jack. The force-field lurched again.

From behind Violet, a small boy on a little bike asked, "What're you doin-"

"NOTHING!" Violet shouted, whirling around to face him with a fake grin, her force field around her brothers disappearing. She winced at the loud KER-THUNK sound.

time skip---

Helen Parr stepped through the broken door of the hotel, two pizzas in her hands. "I wonder what happened."

As she approached the hotel room in which her children were, she couldn't help but notice the odd noises coming from inside. She hesitated a moment outside of the door, listening to Dash and Violet screaming at each other and things breaking. Finally, she knocked on the door (with her feet), since her hands were full. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Agent Rick Dicker coming up the stairs at the opposite end of the hall, walking her way.

Violet opened the door, Jack-Jack in one arm, looking very worse for ware. Dash didn't look much better. Neither did the room.

"Vi, what on earth happened!" Helen asked. Just then, Rick Dicker stepped up beside her, and Helen turned to see what he needed.

"Agent Rick Dicker here to discuss you child's registration as a super," he said dully, glancing at Violet's condition and wondering whether this worse-for-ware look was a new fad among the kids.

Helen was confused. Violet and Dash were registered already. What was he talking about? She turned to her daughter, who was glaring at her mother. Without a word, Violet took one pizza with her free hand, handed Jack-Jack to her mother with the other hand, and slammed the door shut, locking it. This left Helen feeling very confused, along with Robert Parr, who'd just arrived as well.

Inside the room, Violet turned to Dash, who lay in a coma on the floor.

"Is it over?" he groaned.

"Hey Dash…"

"Yeah, Vi?"

"Got anymore Twinkies?"

**The end. Sorry it's so long. **

**Review…?**


	2. The Dash Discovery

**Wow, I am freaking lazy. Sorry I haven't put a new one up already. You can hit me if you like. So this one's the Dash Discovery and I have no idea what's gonna happen.**

"Do you like it?" Helen asked her husband of five years, Robert Parr.

"I do. That new haircut looks great on you," Robert said from his recliner, putting down the paper. Helen smiled broadly at the compliment.

"Very Soccer-Mom," Robert said.

"Bob!" Helen yelled as she teasingly hit him with a pillow. She looked at her watch. "Okay, Bob. I gotta go pick up Vi from preschool, then pick up the groceries. Think you can handle the fort until I get back?"

"I think I can take care of one baby boy," Bob said standing up. Helen and Bob had recently had their second child, a boy they'd named Dashiell (after Helen's grandfather).

"If you say so," Helen said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as she grabbed her purse. "Later, Honey." And she was gone.

Bob glanced over at the playpen where Dashiell was sleeping and chuckled to himself. He sat back in his chair and picked up his paper. That lasted only about ten minutes.

"Booor-ring!" Bob put down the paper and walked over to the balcony of their apartment. What was the point in reading the news if you couldn't _affect it_ in some way? Five years…

Ka-chunk!

Bob turned around and looked inside. He was a little shocked to see Dashiell sitting _outside_ his playpen. Bob walked back inside, sliding the door closed behind him.

"Hey, Kiddo, how'd you do that?" Bob asked the blonde-haired boy.

"Eeaaa," Dashiell answered. Bob picked up the baby and placed him back in the playpen.

"You play with your toys in there for a while, okay?" Bob said as he leaned on the playpen to watch the baby. He chuckled to himself watching Dashiell play with his rattle, banging it on the sides of the playpen.

And that's when something happened that Bob would remember forever. Dash started crawling around the pen, which wouldn't be that odd if it wasn't for the fact he was only around a month old. Furthermore, he was crawling rather… quickly.

"Uh oh."

Bob watched petrified as his son hit his rattle repeatedly, and very quickly, against the bars of his playpen until- POP! They were gone.

"Oh dear."

Now Dashiell was hyper-crawling all around the room. Not quickly crawling, hyper crawling. As in "what's that blur?" crawling.

Bob's eyes darted everywhere, trying to distinguish where his son really was from where he'd recently been. Nervously, he took a step backwards towards his recliner.

"Maaga!" Dashiell exclaimed loudly with a few little sobs. Bob had almost stepped on Dashiell's hand. Bob spun around to see his son cradling his hand, and the father was left to the conclusion that he _had_ stepped on the boy's hand.

"Abbamana!" Dashiell cried at Bob, almost angrily.

"I'm sorry!" Bob cried back.

"Shoma!"

"I didn't mean it!"

"Abba?"

"No, of course not!"

"Aky Taky!"

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Now Dashiell really was crying.

"Ah hell…" Bob said, pulling at his hair. Then he realized what he just said in front of a child that was still learning how to speak. Dashiell stopped crying and looked at him funny. "-llllllen! Hel_en_!" Bob corrected himself. "Helen is Mommy, isn't she, Son?"

Dashiell nodded enthusiastically. Bob sighed with relief.

Dashiell pointed to a picture of Helen. "Hell!"

"Oh no."

"Hell, hell, hell."

Meanwhile, Helen was at the grocery store with four-year-old Violet. "And what color is dis?" Helen asked Violet in goo-goo baby-voice, pointing to a banana.

Violet stared at the banana a long time… "Violet!"

Helen sighed. "Well, at least you didn't say black." Helen put the bananas in the shopping cart. "Come on, we gotta get this done before your father knocks down the apartment building."

"Whamo!"

"Right! Mommy will whamo Daddy if he misbehaves!"

"You shouldn't even be talking yet, let alone crawling!" Bob shouted.

"Abba doo!" Dashiell said happily. Then stood up.

Bob knew this was supposed to be a moment of great joy and tenderness. He was feelin' neither. Quite the opposite, in fact. He felt distress and fear.

Bob blinked. And to his horror, his son was no longer standing in front of him. He looked around the room frantically.

"Dashiell?"

There was a giggle from the kitchen. Bob ran into the room and gasped. Everything was on. The blender, stove, coffee machine, microwave, dishwasher, oven, even the radio was blaring, and Dashiell was running around the room turning on everything he'd missed his first go round.

"Hey!"

Dash giggled as he ran past his father.

"Wait, but-" Bob said as he watched Dashiell zoom off to a different room, glancing back at the kitchen being torn to shreds by the appliances. Finally, Bob took off after his son, making a mental note to turn those things off once he got to him.

Just as Bob ran into his and Helen's bedroom, the blonde blur whizzed right by him, giggling like a maniac. Bob spun around to watch in mid-sprint, thus turning his body in a way God never intended a body to move… and down he fell.

"Yeow!"

"Ehehehehe!"

Bob crawled up to his feet and burst into his bedroom. "Helen's gonna kill me!"

The room was totaled. Seriously, we're talking car wreck. Pillows burst open, feathers everywhere, the bed was just wrecked to be honest, perfume and cologne was spilled everywhere (causing the worst mixture of aromas EVER), pictures lay in their broken frames on the floor, the clothes had all been thrown out of the dressers and closet, and what looked like Bob's briefcase and papers therein had been finger-painted on. That's when he heard a crash from down the hall.

"Dashiell Robert Parr!" Bob hollered, entering the hallway and cornering his son by the now broken vase (that HAD held water and flowers).

"Bu-bye," Dashiell goo-gaaed, waving his tiny hand enthusiastically, then running down the hall past Robert back into his bedroom.

"Come back here!" Robert shouted, chasing after Dashiell.

Dashiell zoomed back past him. And Bob went back. Whiz! And he turns around! Zoom! And back… Zam! Here we go again. Vroom! And Bob turns around again **(A/N yeah, I realize I just switched from past tense to present, deal with it)** Zip! Back. Whoosh! And back. Zoom!

"Ehehehehe!" Zoom!

Robert walked, panting in the hallway. He passed by a mirror, and paused looking at his reflection. He fingered his hair. Maybe it wasn't really receding. Perhaps it was just the lighting. He stood sideways and looked at his gut. _Well, if I suck it in a little…_

That's when Robert smelled something very unpleasant and was suddenly reminded of the kitchen.

Meanwhile, at the grocery store…

"Vi, please! Just do what Mommy asks."

"Mommy look Violet from here," Violet giggled. Yup, she had put up a forcefield containing herself and the grocery cart.

"Violet, come on, let Mommy in."

"Momma look angry."

"No, I'm not angry, just… uh oh." Helen had noticed someone coming down the lane, just about the worst someone. She recognized her from Bob's company picnic. Bob's boss, Mrs. Marshall. The stiff, elderly woman sent shivers down Helen's spine.

"Vi I need you to put it down right now!"

"I can't ear you Mommy."

"It's 'hear' not 'ear,' you hear with your ear, now please let Mommy in!"

"Okay!" Violet put down her forcefield, and Helen walked up next to the cart. "Thank you, Vi."

Fft. It was up again, this time containing Helen. And it just happened to be too short for Helen to stand up straight in. _Oh boy_.

Mrs. Marshall walked her cart up next to the frustrated mother. Helen noticed Mrs. Marshall couldn't see the forcefield; she wasn't wearing her usual bifocals.

Mrs. Marshall cleared her throat… properly, almost. As properly as a throat can be cleared, I guess.

"Excuse me, Madam," the woman said to Helen disdainfully. "But could you please move your cart so that I may see the products behind you."

"Certainly!" Helen said nervously. As she slowly turned towards the shelf, Helen's mind raced. She bent over next to Violet. "Put it down, put it down now!" she whispered through gritted teeth frozen in a fake smile.

"Akey Dokey!" Violet said, rather loudly, and the forcefield disappeared. Helen sighed with relief as she picked up a random can of green beans and tossed it into the cart before rolling away.

"Madam!" Mrs. Marshall called after Helen sounding fairly distressed. Helen turned around to face the shocked-looking woman.

"Y-your daughter!" Mrs. Marshall said, pointing at Vi. Helen turned back around.

Sure enough, Violet was as see-through as ever and her clothes were not. Helen, for the umpteenth time today, brain-stormed.

"What about her, Ma'am?" Helen said quickly.

"You… you don't…" Mrs. Marshall looked a little confused and embarrassed. "N-never mind." _It's time to start wearing my glasses again_.

Helen sighed with relief.

Some other guy passed by with his cart, glancing warily at the floating clothes that were swinging its legs before shaking it off.

Bob raced into the kitchen. "Holy Mackerel!"

Well, the oven looked ready to explode and the stove was on fire. As was the dish-drying cloth, which lay in the middle of the floor. If that wasn't enough, Dashiell was marching around the burning cloth, banging on a pot with a spatula.

"AAA-BAA-POW-GAA-MOO-MYY-MO!"

"Aye aye aye aye aye!" Bob exclaimed, moving to get Dashiell away from the flames. "Whoa!" he screamed, bringing his hand back to him as Dashiell let out a growl. "This isn't happening! This is just a dream! It isn't possible! Any second now Elvis will pop up!"

The doorbell rang. Since that's where the fire extinguisher was, Bob ran to the door and opened it.

A delivery guy stood there looking rather bored and holding a large box.

"Someone order a full collection of Cher cds?"

Bob looked over his shoulder at the phone, off the hook, next to a toy train that looked as though it'd been thrown. Then he looked back in the kitchen. _This is worse than Elvis…_

And slammed the door in the guy's face.

Bob ran into the kitchen and let off the extinguisher. In a matter of seconds, the multiple fires were out and Bob ran around the room turning exploding things off, extinguisher still in hand. He then moved towards Dashiell who sat giggling on the floor. Bob set down the extinguisher and moved to pick up the not-moving child. Only there was a slight problem. His hand was stuck to the extinguisher. **(A/N this can actually happen if you hold it wrong while using the fire extinguisher! It's like licking a cold metal pole in January)**

"Uh oh." Bob picked up the extinguisher in his other hand and pulled. "Yeow!" His hand remained stuck.

"Bu-bye!" Dashiell said, waving.

"No don't-!"

Too late. The kid was gone… out the front door.

"Ack shnagi mea!" Bob grumbled loudly, banging the extinguisher-hand against the counter. Pow! It was off.

"Yeeeeeeee-ooooooooohhhhhh!" Bob cried, crumpling around his hand. Still holding it, he moved for the door. "Ooohhhh, Helen better appreciate this!"

The Blonde Blur raced up and down the hallway.

"Hey, come back here!" Bob shouted, causing the boy to pause. Or at least Bob thought that's why he paused. Actually, he'd found the stairs.

"Stay!" Bob commanded, coming towards Dashiell as quickly as possible. Too bad, the kid was gone.

"Aw, man!" Bob ran for the stairs and jumped over the banister. Unfortunately, he didn't land as soundly as he used to be able to. So now he was a stone ball falling down, chasing the very young, very blonde Indiana Jones **(A/N geez, that was a weird comparison)** "Ow-oh-geez-oo-ah-yeow-drat-ow-man-er-ack-erk!"

Giggling, Dashiell ran through the lobby of the apartment building and Bob tore after him, groaning at the newfound pain in his body. The boy ran out the door.

"Oh COME ON!" Bob shouted, running after him.

"Dashiell! Daaaaaaaaaaashieeeell! Dashiell?" Bob paused. There was a park next to his apartment building and there sitting under some trees by a flock of pigeons was Dashiell.

Bob sighed with relief, walking slowly to his son. He scooped the boy up in his arms and the child giggled wildly, pointing down at the birds. He sat down on a nearby bench with Dashiell, smiling at the entire insanity of the situation.

"We shoulda named you the Flash, huh?"

"Hey!" Bob looked up, across the park at the apartment building parking lot. "Hey that guy stole my car!" the voice shouted. Then Bob saw it, the car tearing through the parking lot towards the street.

Before he knew what'd come over him, Bob had scooped up Dashiell and run into the street, right in front of the on-coming stolen car.

POW!

The car hit him, but it was the car that was seriously damaged. And the burglar. People ran towards them as Bob walked calmly over to the driver's door, Dashiell still in hand. Bob opened the door and pulled the burglar out of the car.

"What the heck are you!" the burglar yelled.

Then Bob remembered what politics, secret identities, and low profiles were. Busted!

And not a hundred feet away was Helen and Violet at the red light, Helen covering her face with her hand as she pounded on the dashboard with her other hand.

---time skip---

Night had fallen and the Parr residence was in a havoc. Helen was desperately trying to calm down Violet, who had been tied up head to toe by you-know-who while Bob held Dash up above his head, doing everything in his power to keep the boy's feet off the floor. At the same time, Robert was on the phone.

"Please hold a moment."

"Yeah, sure," the exhausted Bob said.

"Hello?"

"Hey Rick, it's Bob."

"What is it, Bob?"

"I need you to fly into town and register my son as a super… and I have another small problem."

"Bob, with you, the problems are never small."

**Voila! Dash is a little less versatile than Jack-Jack, but I think I just might've pulled it off. Eh, whatever.**

**Review…?**


	3. The Violet Discovery

-1**Bwa ha ha ha! You thought I'd forgotten this fan fiction type thing, didn't you! C'mon, you know you did! Now don't give me that look. Honestly, I don't upload for only a couple (hundred) months, and this is what I get! Well maybe I just won't give you a new chapter? Got ya! (Can you tell I had two Pop-tarts earlier?)**

Mr. Incredible was standing outside the courtroom, impatiently tapping his fingers on his crossed arms, his lawyer and his NSA Agent, Rick Dicker, standing nearby. Down the hall was the lawyer to represent the owner of the Sanchez building. After over a year and a half of court appearances, first to be sued by that suicidal Sansweet-maniac, then by those L-train "victims," and now by the owner of some building he'd destroyed while helping Frozone fight Baron Von Ruthless a few months ago, Mr. Incredible was just plain sick of court rooms and court cases.

"Any chance we'll win this one, George?" he asked his lawyer.

The fellow opened a can of diet Coke. "Nope."

"I figured that's how it'd be," Incredible said, noting the look Rick, who was drinking a Pepsi, was giving George. He himself had a Dr. Pepper.

"How long d'you think we'll last?" George asked Rick.

"Two hours tops."

"No, I mean the supers. The NSA. The whole shenanigan. You know that once they're done tearing the three of us apart, they're going to go after all the other supers, too."

"This Pepsi should be a bourbon, if that's the case."

"Hey," Mr. Incredible said, raising his can of caffeinated acid, "a toast."

"To the glory days," Rick said.

"And a helluva painful couple hours," added George.

Meanwhile, a young super better known as Elastigirl was out doing hero work for a couple hours while her five-month-old daughter took a nap. If Bob ever caught her doing this, there **would **be words. But heck, she was an independent spirit; it wasn't like Bob could expect her to actually go for that "house-mom" gig.

"Get lost, lady!" the robber said to her as she stepped between him and the door out of the store he was robbing, and he pulled out a gun.

Pow! Bam, whoosh, "OW!" slam, clang, bang, wham!

Mr. Mugger was out cold, bagels and all.

"That would be 'girl,'" Elastigirl said, grabbing the unconscious man by the shirt collar.

"Hey!" the store owner said.

"What?"

"You broke my window!"

She looked behind her. Sure enough, the window was gone.

"Um… I think it's just really clean."

"You owe me new window! That's a hundred bucks!"

This was met by Helen's 'are you kidding me?' face.

"You gonna pay up? I said it's -"

Elastigirl threw one of the bagels at his face.

"DOW!"

The superhero then proceeded to walk out of the shop, through the broken window, leaving the half-dead mugger on the ground for the owner to mop up. She then elasti-jumped onto the roof of the building, and continued to jump from building to building until she was at Bob's and her apartment, where she walked through the small balcony's sliding door and into their main room. She'd be glad when they finally moved out.

"Violet!" she called. "Mommy's home!"

Back to Bob…

"Answer the question!"

"I really don't-"

"Do you want to be thrown to the lions, Mr. Incredible?"

"Simon, we can't do that anymore," the judge said to the lawyer.

"It seems like an obvious choice. If you-"

"JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION, MR. INCREDIBLE! TELL US THE TRUTH!"

"I don't think you can handle the truth right now, Mr. Hedson," Mr. Incredible muttered.

"What was that?"

"You can't handle the truth!"

"Getting smart, huh!"

"Listen, you-!"

"ENOUGH WITH THE SHOUTING IN MY COURTROOM! JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION ALREADY!"

"YES, I'M THE ONE WHO TORE OFF A PIECE OF THE STUPID BUILDING!"

George, back at his and Mr. Incredible's table, shook his head. What I wouldn't give for an aspirin, he thought.

Helen walked into the bedroom, where a crib stood in the corner. She smiled and walked over to the crib, preparing to pick up her daughter. Except for a minor problem. Upon looking in the crib, Helen realized there was no baby to be seen in that crib. What she did not realize was why there was no baby to be seen.

"Violet?"

This was the part where Helen lost it.

"Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! Violet! VIOLET!" As Elastigirl shouted her daughter's name, she doubled her efforts by springing around the apartment in a frenzy of jell-o-like bouncing from the ceiling to the floor. And of course, the fact that her daughter wasn't really old enough yet to understand responding to her name failed to cross Helen's mind. Adrenaline can have disastrous effects on the young and springy.

"OHMYGOD!" she cried, a tangled mass of indistinct limbs and other body parts on the kitchen floor. "OHMYGAWDWHATAMIGONNADO! V-VIOLET GONE! MISTERBOBGONNA KILLME! MYDAUGHTER! WHOOSH!"

Something else Helen failed to pick up on was that her shrieking had actually awakened young Violet, who yawned widely, crawled out from under her blanket (wearing her pajamas), and started up on what had been her project for the last few weeks: breaking the lock on her crib prison.

Helen sprang up again. "What'm I gonna do? What'm I gonna do! She's gone! Gotta… gotta what?…." She thought a moment. Then she realized the obvious choice. "Breath! Breathe breathe breathe! Eeeee huuuuh eeeee huuuuuh. Okay. Okay. Olay. Okay. Eeeeee huuuuuh. She couldn't have gotten out on her own. Maybe the neighbors noticed someone come in." Helen grabbed the spare outfit she kept by the door and threw it on, running out the door and slamming it shut just as Violet, in a moment of pure brilliance and exuberance, made the lock on her crib go "click."

The crawling kiddo was free…

Helen ran to each and every door of the ten-story apartment building, knocking loudly and begging for any information about her missing daughter, meeting some rather odd fellows on the way. The list included a party of mimes, what appeared to be a samurai, and a party of fellows which appeared to have just walked out of the old Frankenstein movie. Or maybe King Kong. It was hard to tell. This action took place over the next several hours.

During that time, Mr. Incredible's court case thing was recessed until the next day, and George, Rick, and Incredible got a cab to a downtown diner for a quick drink and a slice of pizza each. However, seeing as it wasn't often that you saw a superhero eating a pizza and drinking beer, and because Bob hadn't bothered to bring a set of cover-up clothes, the experience was not as relaxing as the group had originally thought it would be.

"Can we get some more pepperoni over here, please?" Bob called to the waiter. "What're you looking at?" he asked a gawking couple nearby.

"You know, Incredible," Rick said, "you could be a bit more friendly."

"Let's see you be friendly when it's you their staring at."

"Hey," George said drunkenly (the lawyer couldn't hold his alcohol nearly as well as the other two), pouring the remains of his diet Coke into his beer bottle. "Cheers to us!"

"George, I think we better call you a cab."

"I would not appreciate being called names, good sir."

"Ah, leave him be, I'll get him home," Rick said. "But let's look at it this way," he said to Bob. "Now we'll all be able to do that whole 'simple life' thing, right?"

"Sure… hey! Another pepperoni, please!"

"Where did that guy go?"

"Hey look! Elastigirl!" George said, waving at a window he could make out in the back, through which he could see the super girl questioning the waiter and cook, looking very deranged.

"That's nice, George," Mr. Incredible said. "Oh forget it. Here," he said, handing Rick money for his beer and pizza. "See you two tomorrow."

"If George's hangover isn't too bad."

Bob walked outside and sighed. Maybe Rick was right. Maybe he should just accept this simple life thing he'd actually fantasized in the past.

"DO YOU HAVE MY DAUGHTER!" Helen screamed at the cook and waiter frantically, not realizing during her entire excursion that she'd forgotten to take off her mask. When all she got was odd looks and hesitantly shaken heads, she elasti-shot herself on top of another building's rooftop. She was going to go home and call Bob on that clever little gadget they'd made for the supers a year ago on her way. What was it called? A bell phone? Oh, it didn't matter.

However, while the parents were out, Violet had been thoroughly enjoying herself. For starters, she'd managed to get the fridge/freezer open and had somehow managed to devour a whole pint of ice cream. She then found crayons and markers and drew over all the walls in the apartment within two feet of the floor. Next came trashing the living room. Invisible Violet broke the coffee table and TV, stabbed various pieces of furniture with a pair of scissors before leaving them in the wall, and threw a rattle through the sliding door.

But then she sneezed. Poosh! Suddenly, a purplish, semi-transparent half-orb surround her and her building blocks. She started throwing the blocks at the strange wall, and giggled happily when they bounced back and hit her invisible self.

"Hello?" Bob answered his cell phone as he walked into the apartment building.

"BOB! IT'S ME!"

"Helen?"

"No, your mother. OF COURSE IT'S HELEN! VIOLET'S GONE!"

"What!"

"I came back, and gone! Not there! Away from crib, not in building gone!"

"She wasn't in her crib! Well where'd you put her! Wait, came back from where?"

"One, I put her in her crib, wise guy, and two, that's not the point of the conversation right now!"

"Well where are you now?"

"Almost there! She couldn't have gotten out of the apartment on her own without help! Maybe she got the Durbans to let her out, you know how they'll do anything for a little girl!"

"Uh, Helen?"

"Unless, (gasp!) UNLESS SHE MANAGED TO GET THE BALCONY DOOR OPEN AND FELL SIX FLOORS! AAAAA, MY BABY!" And she hung up.

Bob looked at his phone, slightly befuggled, but started to jog up to their apartment anyways. As he was searching for his key (trying to be discreet about walking around the building with his supersuit on), Helen was sitting on the sidewalk in front of the building, crying over a plum some teenagers had thrown from three floors up about a week ago.

Bob walked into the apartment and was horrified at the disaster zone. No wonder his wife had lost it! The place was a wreck! Then he heard a strange thumping sort of noise, accompanied by his daughter's giggles.

"Violet!" he called, walking into the main room, where he stared at the onesies, surrounded by a… a… purplish thingmerbob, throwing Violet's blocks at the thingamajig. He circled the strange apparition until his back was to the broken glass door. "Violet?"

Vi looked up at her father. "Uh oo."

She suddenly sneezed. Big time. The forcefield shot out with such force and speed that Mr. Incredible was sent through the glass door, flying outside, and screaming as he fell and hit the street below, distracting Elastigirl from her mourning of the fruit.

Bob groaned as he stood up. "Whoa."

"Where'd you come from?"

"I found our daughter," he said only loud enough for them to hear, seeing as passersby had also noticed the two supers and their strange behaviors.

Bob took out his slightly crunched cell phone and dialed. "Hey Rick? How busy are you?"

**I love it! Sorry it's kinda short!**

**TIMEX EGG TIMERS! GET 'EM WHILE THEIR HOT! You want yours fried or scrambled?**

**Review…?**


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